


Making Music

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-13
Updated: 2004-05-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Random story, for any time after 216.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Justin

I have my Discman turned up so loud that I never hear him enter the loft. Lying here with my eyes closed, in the middle of a daydream, I never hear him take his clothes off and hang them neatly in the bedroom. Never hear him walk up behind the couch and begin to watch me. Never hear the gears shift in his mind as he contemplates each inch of my skin. Never hear the regret flow from him as he tells me things with his eyes that he can’t tell me with his mouth.

 

Brian

He has no clue I’ve come home. I wonder what he’s listening to that’s so enthralling. Maybe it’s Moby again, but he looks subdued, not energetic. So maybe it’s something else. Fuck, it’s probably that fucking violinist kid again. The child prodigy. I don’t know how Justin can listen to that CD over and over again. I wish that fuckin’ kid hadn’t given it to him. It’s like he’s obsessed with it. Lindsey told me that it was his favorite birthday gift. A fucking CD? I told her to fuck off. He was obviously just telling her that to say thank you for taking him to the concert, not because he actually meant it. Right?

In any case, whatever he’s listening to is making his eyelids flutter softly. I can tell he isn’t actually sleeping, just resting his eyes. Living with Justin has given me great insight into what he’s like at every minute of the day. And I can tell when he’s tired, when he’s hyper, when he’s horny, when he’s upset, and when he’s sleeping. But now, he’s definitely not sleeping. Just enjoying whatever’s coming out of that headset. He has no clue my eyes are tracing the lines of his face. No idea I’m getting hard just watching the late afternoon light pouring in from the windows play across his skin. All he's wearing are his gray knit pants. They’re baggy and soft and comfortable. I bought them for him. I have ones like them and he was always wearing them. They hug his round ass in such a way I felt compelled to buy him a pair of his own so he’d always be wearing them when we were just lounging around at home. That and I fucking wanted mine back.

He looks so peaceful right now I almost don’t want to disturb him, but my hard dick convinces me otherwise.

 

Justin

When his fingers tug at the waistband of my pants my eyes fly open and my mouth drops open and I sit up and scream, “What the fuck!?” Then I see him, kneeling in front of the couch, wearing nothing but the devil’s grin. My heart is beating a million miles a minute from the scare, but that only adds to the intensity of the moment and when his cool hand wraps tightly around the base of my warm cock I jump and suck in a breath and try not to pass out.

I’m listening to music a lot when he gets home; it’s one of my favorite pastimes. Lately it’s been Ethan’s CD. I am constantly writing a soundtrack to my life. Sweetness, softness, passion and yearning…all of the things I hear in Ethan’s music…they’re what I’m looking for right now. They’re what’s missing from my life. Brian wouldn’t understand what I get from music. He likes the shit at Babylon, and that’s fine…for dancing…but I need music to speak to me. I need to hear lyrics that tell the story of my life. I need to sympathize with the artist, hear their heartache or their joy. Brian hates most of the “shit” I listen to. But, I love it. I crave new music; I’m always on the hunt for someone new to inspire me. And inspiration I have found in Ethan.

But, with Brian’s hand wrapped around my dick and his lips leaving a trail of warm wet kisses across my lower stomach, I really don’t want to think about Ethan right now. There is a different kind of music Brian wants to make with me, and I’m more than willing. This, the sex, we do it so well I can often forget about everything that is amiss between us. Even if for just a short while. And right now, that is all I want to do. Forget it all and focus on him. And he’ll let me. No questions, no talking, no disappointment, no jealousy…just him and me and everything that feels good.

I let out a series of little sighs to let him know that I love where he’s going with this foreplay. Then I roll my head to the edge of the couch and drop my legs open wide so I can watch what he’s doing. I love watching, it makes each moment more intense for me. I rip the headset from my neck, practically throwing the Discman on the floor under the coffee table. I arch my back up and lift my legs a little which tells Brian to pull my pants, that have pooled around my ankles, off of my body. In seconds they’re gone and he is moving up to sit on the other end of the couch. He wedges his body in between my legs, his mouth never leaving my skin. He has yet to actually touch his lips to my dick and by now I’m dying to feel them there.

He runs his hands up my chest and then down the length of my legs. He kisses the inside of my thighs, the behind my knees, the outsides of my hips. And I just lay here, content and loving it. With every kiss my breathing gets deeper, I’m so relaxed I'm practically catatonic. If it weren’t for my raging hard-on I could surely fall asleep, but I don't dare. I made that mistake once and it’s something I’ll never live down. Not to mention the fact my entire body is pulsing under my skin, waiting to be fucked by Brian. It is as if my blood is chanting, fuck me fuck me fuck me. And he must hear it, the song my blood is singing, because suddenly he slides a hand underneath my body and flips me over. I yelp as my face hits the backside of the couch and laugh into the pillow I’m now eating.

He straddles me to hold me down, pressing his hands into the backs of my arms. He kisses my neck and my shoulders and my spine and my triceps. His lips come up to meet my ear and he whispers, “I love the way you taste, I could lick you all day.” I shudder at the thought and get a chill that makes every blond hair on my entire body stand up. He knows just what to say and when to say it. I whimper as my hard dick gets pressed between the couch and my body because Brian’s weight is on top of me.


	2. Making Music

Brian

Sitting astride his tight little body I think of all the wonderful things I’ve done to him. How good I’ve made him feel, how hard I’ve made him come. I think about the fact I can literally count the number of times I’ve fucked every guy I’ve ever been with. For almost all of them, one is the magic number. For a special few it was more than that. A guy I was enamored with in college, for his sleek build and his slow southern drawl and that absolutely amazing way he never tired of giving head and getting nothing in return, I slept with nearly every night for three months. But, I did eventually grow tired of him. Not Justin. With Justin, the times are countless, the positions infinite, the locales endless. The number of times we’ve fucked far surpasses the number of times in my life I’ve done anything that I like doing, even drugs, and that says something.

He thinks I’m about to fuck him, and just for that I won’t. Not yet. First I’ll make him come so hard he screams loud enough to wake the dead. Then when he’s spent and panting I’ll start to fuck him. Get him going all over again. At the ripe old age of nineteen Justin can almost outsex me. Almost. And for that I have to give him a head start. I lick from the nape of his neck, where my lips have just whispered their love of the salty sweet taste of his skin, to the hollow right above his ass, where his tailbone begins to curve and the skin so deliciously dips just before the crack of his ass. I love that part of him. I wonder if anyone has spent as much time there as I have. I know the absolute answer to that is no. I smile at my sense of ownership. Run my tongue in and out and over that little hollow, making him sigh and pump his hips. He wants more from me and I’ll give it to him, in a little while.

I let my tongue trace the contours of his ass. He keeps whimpering and I keep denying him what he wants. “We have all night.” I whisper this in earnest, because it can’t be much past dinnertime. And who wants to eat chicken stir-fry when you can eat this gorgeous ass? His head rolls around on the couch and his body is shaking a bit. He clearly really does need some relief, but I’m going to drag this out. Sometimes I’m in the mood to fuck, get off, and get on with it, but not tonight. I know in a way I’m still making up for his birthday. Even though it’s been a few weeks, I can still see some residual sadness in his eyes when his listens to that stupid kid’s violin CD. And even though I know I did nothing wrong, I feel somehow responsible for that sad look. Or at least somehow responsible for making it go away. So I’ll make him come so many times he forgets how old he is. That should do the trick.

 

Justin

Oh…fuck…me…please. God, I can’t believe he i  
s teasing me so much. Not that he doesn’t love to. He does it all the time, even more than I do it to him. But this is insanity. He’s been running his hot, soft tongue over every inch of my body, specifically my ass, for what seems like hours. My dick is so hard and so trapped beneath me that I feel like it could explode if I finally touched it, so I don’t dare. He keeps whispering things like, “we have all night” and “slow down” and “just breathe.” So I’m trying to do all of those things and think about nothing except being in the moment and loving how I feel. But as always, the agony and the ecstasy are battling inside of me and I think right now the agony is winning.

I give my hips one big thrust up toward his face and huff out, “enough” and “please” in two throaty, husky grunts. I can finally feel his hands touching my ass cheeks, slowly spreading them apart. And I say a silent thank you to some higher power for hearing my prayers. His lips graze the insides of my ass and his tongue plays its little torturous game around the perimeter of my puckering hole. I take in a long deep breath and try to relax. Getting rimmed by Brian Kinney should be the eigth wonder of the world. And knowing that I am privy to this amazing display of talent makes me force myself to relax and fully enjoy it.

He knows I love his tongue inside me just as much as his dick. Brian can use his tongue to do things that no other human’s can. He can take me places that blow my mind, make me lose my breath, make my eyes roll back in my head…and a thousand other delicious things. The anticipation, of course, is what is getting me. Just knowing that any second his long, hot, eager tongue is going to dart inside me…makes me want to shout a slew of obscenities…but I bite down on the couch pillow and resist the urge. But then he does it…and resisting the urge to scream is no longer an option, “FUCK…oh god….yes…” the rest is a trail of inaudible noises that are currently traveling out of our sixth-story windows and hitting the ears of unsuspecting citizens on the street and all I can think is, They’d scream this loud too if they even for a moment realized this pleasure.

He starts to poke and prod and lick and move in and out and around. I bite my lower lip so hard it bleeds. But the taste of the blood only makes me harder. My breath starts to quicken as his tongue finds its way deeper inside me. I can feel each hot breath coming out of his nostrils, lightly sending tufts of air to tickle the sensitive skin above my hole. One of his hands drops to just behind my balls and starts stroking my prostate from the outside. Between his fingers outside and his tongue inside I’m sure that my entire body is going to explode. He has a rhythm going now and each stroke is so much more intense than the one before I don’t know what to do with myself or how to react. My body shakes and convulses and is suddenly completely out of control. Suddenly I’m coming and I didn’t even realize I was that close. I have no control over my writhing body and for a moment all I see behind my eyes are flashes of orange and fuchsia and other fabulously bright colors.

As the waves of one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had begin to subside I realize what just happened…I just came on Brian’s couch. The white couch, the one from Milan, the one that cost more than my life is worth. Propping myself up on my elbows I peer down at my dick to assess the damage. There is come everywhere, my cheeks turn red and my stomach tenses. I can sense Brian behind me on the couch, not moving. I’m waiting for him to start freaking out, to yell at me, kick my ass off the couch to see how badly I’ve stained the cushion. I can’t fucking believe I just did that. What am I? Twelve? I should have SOME control over my body. Gritting my teeth and feeling the pressure in my shoulders build, I slowly start to turn my head to meet Brian’s undoubtedly disapproving gaze.


	3. Making Music

Brian

I can’t believe he just came that hard. I didn’t even have to touch his dick. That was intense. And the screaming, fuck I’m good. Justin’s noisy, always has been. I love that though. Always grunting and moaning and letting me know what’s good and what’s great and what’s out of this world. I like his humming and breathing and talking during sex. It turns me on, gets me off, makes me smile. But this, fuck…that was some loud shit. I thought his head was gonna explode. Good to know I can still make him shoot like that. Of course, I wish he hadn’t done it all over the fucking couch. That stain is going to be a bitch, but it was totally worth watching his face scrunch up and his hips buck and his body completely take over. Yeah, it was worth it.

He turns around to look at me and I can immediately tell he thinks I am going to kick his ass for what he just did. His cheeks are red with embarrassment and his eyes glance at me pensively. He thinks I’m about to give him a verbal beating. I love that I can still surprise him. A smile I can’t suppress breaks across my face, “Good to know I still got it.” I smack his ass and stand up. Relief floods his face and he releases a loud sigh and begins to smile back at me. I extend my hand toward him as a gesture to help him up. He takes my hand and I heave him off of the couch and into my arms. Our heads both turn back to assess the damage. He furrows his eyebrows, “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” “I’m guessing my tongue,” I say coolly back at him. I take my right hand and begin to run my fingers through the still-moist come on his belly. He smiles down at my hand and then looks up at me with fire burning in his eyes.

“Come on.” He starts to drag me toward the bedroom and I don’t protest. My dick is still fucking hard as hell. I can keep a hard-on for longer than the average 18-year-old (and I’m what, 29…okay 30) but this is ridiculous. We hit the bed with a thud, bouncing to the center. Justin grabs the comforter and flings it to the floor. He’s in a playful mood now. Clearly ecstatic that I didn’t get pissed about the couch. A year ago, hell even six months ago, that would have infuriated me and ruined our night. But now, I don’t know…living with him all this time…it’s changed me. I don’t like to admit that, but it has. I can handle some kid coming on my couch now. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it is what it is.

He grabs a condom from the nightstand and hands it to me. Pressing the little plastic wrapped tube that represents peace of mind into my hand he whispers, in his sexiest voice, “Fuck me. Hard.” It’s the “hard” that gets me. I groan, and a wicked grin spreads across my lips. He rolls over waiting for me. But, I don’t slide the condom on quite yet. Tonight I’m into torture and I’m willing to bet I can get him begging again. Keeping the condom locked securely in my fingers (I’m going to need it soon enough) I lay my body out over his. I let my hard dick slide between his ass cheeks a little. I start a slow grinding on top of him. I can feel the base of my cock rubbing over the top of his hole.

Leaning in to touch my lips to his ear I whisper, “Do you feel it? My dick. It’s touching you, it’s rubbing you raw. Can you feel it?” I let the words spill from my lips in my sexiest, deepest voice. I know even saying the word "raw" will have him in a frenzy. I’d never fuck him without a condom, but I don’t blame him for wishing I would. Spreading his legs wide I brace myself behind him and sink in with one long, even push. We moan in unison. I love the sound of us together.

Justin

He’s finally inside of me. And I don’t know if it’s just my mood or how horny I am or maybe how sweet he was about the come stain, but I’m even more into this than usual. Which I didn't think was possible. But I really want him inside me; want him to fuck the shit out of me. I tell him that with my body language. I meet each one of his deep thrusts by throwing my hips back into him. He loves when I want it hard and fast. Sometimes slow is good, but not right now. He’s had a raging hard on for far too long, and I’m in the mood for a fast fuck. Not to mention my 5-minute-old rim job keeps entering my mind and it is all I can do not to come again just thinking about it. Fuck me, that was amazing.

Our rhythm is rough and deep and fast and we’re both panting and sweating and struggling to keep up with the other. But, we love every hot second of it. My blood feels like it might boil and my body feels like Brian is pounding inside of every inch of it, not just my ass. “Deeper.” I say it in a whisper but when he starts to shift behind me I know he heard the request. And he grants it. Pushing past me in all the right places, I know I won’t be long. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” I huff as he quickens the pace. I can tell he’s ready too. As usual, we’ll come together in one blinding, loud, wonderful moment. And we do. And it’s amazing. I feel deaf momentarily as his body falls on top of mine. I don’t know if it’s from all the moaning and screaming or my second amazing orgasm of the night.

We lay quietly in a heap as the sex haze begins to lift around us. I listen to his breathing return to normal along with mine, and think about the sweet sounds of the end of our sonata. I turn my head to look at him, our eyes lock for a long moment before he speaks. “Justin…” he looks like he’s struggling to find words for something. Considering he rarely talks after sex, I’m shocked he’s speaking at all. I nod in order to have him continue. I don’t want to scare him off, not now. “I…” his eyes become darker now. I’m almost concerned for him. I slide up next to him and wrap my right arm around his body and stick my head under his chin. With my face pressed to his chest I whisper, “Yes?” I hope he will go on, but I hold my breath in uncertain anticipation.

Brian

“Well, I just…” Well I just what? Why the fuck can’t you tell this kid you love him? You do, you know you do. Say it Brian. Fucking say it. He needs to hear it almost as much as I need to say it. But, I still can’t. Won’t utter those words. Don’t force myself to say them when I should. I let out a loud sigh and cop out as always, “I just want you to know the couch is no big deal, I’ll have it professionally cleaned.” I don’t even have to look at him to know there is disappointment in his eyes. And that disappointment is my fault, it always is. And it is happening more and more often. All I’m trying to do is make things better between us, but I think in doing so I’m actually making them worse. Justin knows me, knows what I’m trying to say. And he so desperately wants to hear it. Which makes it even worse than if I didn’t feel it, and didn’t want to say it, and never tried.

I kiss the top of his head lightly as he pulls away from me. He smiles up at me a little. It is so forced and so sad that I want to punch something. I want to jump up on the bed and scream, “I love you! I love you! I said it! Are you happy?” But, I won’t, I don’t, I can’t. I just lie there still and watch him get up from the bed and go into the bathroom. As the door shuts and my eyes fall on the barrier that is in between us now, I can’t help but feel like it is much more than just a closed door.


End file.
